


Whispers of a shot (but you didn't hear it)

by Atalto



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Angst, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, Gun Violence, I don't know how accountancy works, Knife Violence, M/M, Meet-Cute, Romance, Shance Secret Santa 2017, Shiro (Voltron) Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Shiro is a Hitman, Shooting, Sleepovers, descriptions of violence, fluff and angst and drama oh my, it's really not as violent as it sounds though, lance works in a coffee shop, trust me?, very little detail though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-20
Updated: 2017-12-20
Packaged: 2019-02-17 11:56:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13076373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Atalto/pseuds/Atalto
Summary: He's a hitman, a glorified hitman, and he hates it.He knows the Galra deserve it, and it's the only way to win this urban war, but he still hates it.And meeting Lance, a barista at a local coffee house, is both a blessing and a curse.~Secret Santa fic Fic for Rainbow-Voltron!





	Whispers of a shot (but you didn't hear it)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JoFrez](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JoFrez/gifts).



> Hello all, and a happy holidays to you!  
> This was created for Rainbow-Voltron for the Shance Secret Santa 2017 on tumblr!! I melded a few of your requests together - Mainly the coffee shop au, an attempt at pining Shiro, and "kiss it all better' by He Is We.  
> I hope you like this, and I hope everyone else does too!
> 
> Enjoy!

On the roof of a six-storey apartment, Shiro was cold; the September wind had picked up in the hour he'd sat there, causing the building to creak beneath him. The black turtleneck that clung to his skin did little to protect him from the chill that sunk deep into his bones, and the balaclava didn't stop the wind biting at his nose and lips.  
He was alone, with only the whistle of air and the general hum of the city around him.

_"Champion, you've got a shot at your twelve in five. Knife is on the ground, Ulaz and deathday are in position!"_

He gave a chuckle at Matt's overly enthusiastic voice crackling though his earpiece, hoping it would be lost to the wind and not picked up by the microphone taped to his lapel. "'Deathday'? Are you seriously using that?" He questioned jokingly as he leant down to look through the scope of the gun perched on the ledge. A finger tightened around the cold metal trigger, sending a small shock up the flesh of his arm. His other hand went under the barrel, clinking as metal connected with metal.

  
_"Look, if I'm helping this joint, I want a cool name that fits my cool and mysterious persona!"_

  
He could picture Matt's smirk as the scope focused. Him and Ulaz were sat in a black van about two blocks away, lurking until their target was eliminated to swoop in and hide the body, pick Keith and him up, and get back to headquarters as soon as possible.

Below him, he could see Keith slowly plodding down the pavement, grey hoodie and oversized sweatpants blending into the shadows of the night. From here, the younger man looked inconspicuous, but Shiro knew how many weapons he was concealing under the baggy clothes. If he missed this shot, Keith would be there to clean up, sneak across the street and pull a dagger out of one of his many pockets to deal the killing blow. It was rare he ever missed, but it was useful having that unstoppable insurance just in case.

_"Knife is in position."_

As Keith neared the corner between high rise blocks, his target appeared out of the shadows on the other side of the street. A tall man, wiry but hunched slightly, with wispy white hair that almost looked like cat ears on the top of his head. He looked innocent, but Shiro knew better. He was one of those, a member of the Galrans.

He was wearing such a nice suit, Shiro thought as he lined up his shot with the nervous turn of the man's head, it would be such a shame to ruin it.

He'd have to make this one clean.

"This is Champion, I have the shot."

_"This is Ulaz. Take the shot, Champion."_

As the man began to walk down the street, Shiro took a deep breath in, and exhaled slowly.

_"Champion, you're losing him. Hurry up."_

He barely heard the shot as his finger gently squeezed the trigger, instead focusing on controlling the knockback of the rifle that unceremoniously jammed into his shoulder. Through the scope, he saw the man crumple to the floor, no evidence of what had happened except a dark spot on the side of his head, dead on the temple. 

  
He was proud; a clean shot.

"He's down."

Within seconds, the black van turned the corner, pulling up hastily next to the body on the pavement. He saw someone jump out the back as the doors were flung open; it must have been Ulaz, it was too bulky to have been Matt. He also saw Keith stealthily run across the empty road, jumping into the passenger seat next to the driver. He didn't know this driver. Allura was a big fan of hiring a new one every mission and then wiping their memories of any incident whatsoever.

As the back doors slammed shut, he picked up the gun leisurely and slung it over his shoulder, heading towards the main staircase back down the building. As he pulled the steel door open, his watch flashed 00:10

Hopefully he wouldn't miss the van this time.

* * *

 

The next morning was bright, sun glinting through the cotton wool clouds, completely ignorant of anything that had happened last night.

Shiro hated it.

He'd gotten very little sleep that night, as usual after missions; replaying events whilst staring unblinking at the ceiling, regretting taking the jobs time after time. But he needed to do this, needed to take out every member of that group, that  _cult_.

God he needed a coffee.

As he walked up to the impressive building in front of him, he wiped a hand down his face, and hoped his exhaustion didn't show through.  _Altean solicitors and accountancy_ read the golden embossing on the windows, but he knew better.   
The entire place was a front for their 'outings', for their attempts to dismantle the criminals that were somehow working under their noses, most of whom he knew personally.

He repressed those memories, and pushed open the grand glass doors.

"Ah, Shiro, good morning!" A warm, accented voice called out from the welcome desk.

  
Shiro smiled sheepishly. "Good morning, Coran."

As he handed over his identification card, Coran flashed him his trademark smile, scanning it quickly then handing it back over. "Just desk work today, my lad, but Allura wants to see you before you start in her office," he instructed, apologetically at first before brightening up, "I assume you know where it is?"

Allura's office was down a long corridor at the top of the building, all gilded banisters and large, marble pillars. He knew the Altean's had money; Allura had inherited the entire firm, house, and wealth from her late father. He hadn't known Alfor, but he knew he was killed by the same people that had made his life hell last year.

Allura's office was huge, and the scale of it never failed to catch him off guard whenever he turned the handle and pushed open the double wooden doors. The far wall was comprised of windows from ceiling to floor, looking out on the skyline of the city, and the walls that weren't transparent were covered in ornamental picture frames, filled with oil paintings and landscapes of far off lands. At the centre of the room was her desk, dark oaken wood standing out against the white and pastel blue of the rest of the room.

Allura herself was sat in a large, high backed chair, talking quietly with three other men who were sat on much less comfortable looking seats. She sounded cold, commanding, ruthless, but there was a softness in her eyes as she smiled up at Shiro in the doorway.

  
"Shiro, you've arrived," she stated calmly, British accent clipping her tone, "take a seat, we have much to discuss. Close the door, would you?"

Shiro sat gingerly between the others; on his right was Matt, all cheeky grins and wild hair, who shot him a thumbs up and a compliment on his shot last night, and on his left was Keith, who gave him a worried stare and a quick pat on the upper arm. At the end of the row was the man he knew as Ulaz. He didn't know his real name, but he knew that he worked at the morgue in the hospital on the other side of the city as a forensic scientist.

"You all worked superbly last night," she went on to say once Shiro was comfortable, "the one they call 'Prorok' is out of the picture forever. That's one less person that they have to terrorise this country."

A murmur went around the group - the horrors that the Galra had committed went unsaid, but the scarily realistic claims of domination and their kidnapping of innocent people rushed through their minds.

Shiro's right arm unconsciously clenched, a metal reminder of what they had done to him.

"As such," she carried on, sending them all a warm smile, "you're all on reduced duties for today, although-" she turned to Ulaz- "I cannot speak for Mister Kolivana, he's probably just as busy as you are."

  
Ulaz nodded slowly, blinking once before smoothing back his hair and standing gracefully. "I shall take my leave then, I wish you all good day."

  
He strode out the room, leaving the others in silence. 

  
Matt stretched lazily, bones clicking gently. "I've got grunt work to be getting on with, and Katie wants me to help with her schoolwork later on, so I'll be going." He rose to stand with a groan. "See y'all later."

  
Keith sighed, pushing on his knees as he stood. "I've got an un-winnable murder case to finish, my client is being stubborn as fuck." He sighed again, tucking in his dress shirt after a glare from Allura. "'You up for a drink tonight, Shiro?"

  
"You know it."

  
With that, Keith left as well, leaving only Shiro and Allura in the office.

"You should be off too, Shiro," Allura suggested, opening one of her many laptops and beginning to type rapidly, "go get yourself a coffee, and have a quiet day. You deserve it."

He stood, shooting her a smile that she gladly reciprocated.

A coffee sounded really good right now.

* * *

 

"Lance, can you do two double chocolate mochas and a cappuccino for me? I've got a couple of sandwiches that are literally seconds away from burning!"

Lance had clocked in, what, an hour ago? When he started his shift at  _the Garrison Brew_ , it was quiet, sleepy even; the only people in there were the typical early morning students, with their tired eye-bags and backpacks full to bursting, or travelling businessmen who were typing impatiently whilst they waited for their trains. 

  
An hour later, however, the small cafe was nearly packed, with tables full of families, friends and lovers, with one or two people camping in the corners and working off the free wifi. The queue was long, but shrinking, and grew smaller with each person they served.

Lunch times rushes. God he hated them.

The hiss of brewing machines soon whirred around the small drinks kitchen again, and Hunk rushed past him for a second time, arms laden with sandwiches and paninis. Once the coffee was in the cups, milk and his signature double chocolate blend was added, and another two customers walked away with smiles and drinks in hand. 

  
From the cashier, Pidge chuckled as she handed him another order. "You okay there Lance?"

  
"Never been better," he said tiredly, still shooting a smile towards the younger girl, "you?"

  
Pidge laughed dryly, punching more numbers into the till. "Lovin' life. A caramel frappe for, uh, Lord Voldemort?" 

  
Somewhere on the other side of the counter, someone laughed, deep and guffawing.

  
Lance smirked. He loved customers like this.

Eventually, the queue died down, the rush ended, and the towering punk-looking dude walked away happy after Lance called "A caramel Frappe for the Dark Lord!" across a cafe full of people. The tables were emptier now, with Pidge finally having time to dance around them with a spray bottle of disinfectant and a checked cloth, grumbling the entire way. Lance took this time to lean on the front counter, grinning whilst goading Pidge as best he could without her throwing the bottle at him again. Last time, they'd ended up with disinfectant in the grates of the coffee machine, and Hunk, who was forced to fix it, was far from happy.

"Can you guys maybe go one shift without hating each other?" Hunk asked from his position in the doorway to the kitchen, "the customers are gonna' think we're got a feud goin' on in here or something. We can't afford to lose any more profit this month, you've seen the numbers, dude."

  
"But Hunk," Lance drawled in reply, running around the counter to pull Pidge into a hug, "it's how we show our undying love for each other, right Pidge-Podge?"

Pidge responded by grimacing and shoving her elbow into his gut.

"Nice shot, Pidge!"

She grinned over at Hunk, groaning playfully when Lance ruffled her hair. "Get off, goofball, I have tables to clean."

Lance sighed dramatically, relinquishing Pidge and waltzing back over to the counter. "I see how it is," he said, with a joking aire of pretentiousness, "I know where I'm wanted. When I leave this place after I finish collage next year, you'll miss me, just watch!"

He cracked one eye open to see a suited man walking up the aisle between tables and Pidge laughing by the window.   
"I love you too dude, now go serve customers."

The suited man had finally reached the counter, and was now drumming gloved fingers on the faux-marble top.

Which Lance thought was odd, because it wasn't even that cold outside, and his other hand wasn't gloved at all.

Shaking his head, Lance sidled over. "Welcome to  _The Garrison Brew._ What can I get ya'?"

  
The suited man thought for a moment, looking up at the menu with sharp grey eyes that were hid behind a shock of white forelock. "A large latte, please."

God, even his voice gave off that aire of mysterious officialness.

Nodding, Lance turned back away from the counter, jamming a button on the espresso machine and laughing slightly awkwardly. "So, coffee break, huh?"

  
He spun on his foot to see Mister Official scratch at the scar on the bridge of his nose with a gloved finger. "Something like that," he said with a crooked smile, "late night last night."

  
"Too much work from all that official stuff?" Lance prompted, moving the foaming the milk and readying a white porcelain mug. 

  
The man dug into his suit pocket to pull out a leather wallet. "More like broke businesses trying to work out how best to distribute what little money they have," he replied with a breathy laugh, "they keep me up at night more than any murder case-"

Wait, so this guy worked in money? Lance knew better than anyone how their little cafe was slowly going under; they were okay for now, but in a year or so?  
He didn't want to think of Hunk's face when he was forced to sell the place.

Lance shifted on his feet gently, finishing the latte off by pouring the milk into a gentle white heart. "And, just out of interest, how much to do charge for this economic consultancy?"

He heard the man laugh again, properly this time, and his heart quietly sank, but it was a good attempt.

"Likely, more than you can afford," the man admitted, a slight apologetic tone in his voice. A pile of bills landed on the counter, and Lance swept them up whilst pushing the cup over to him. 

  
"I mean, you're probably right-"

  
"But I'm technically not at work right now, so I'd be happy to advise you as a friend?"

As he was slipping the bills into the till, Lance froze. Did this guy just say he'd help for free?

  
"You really don't have to do that."  
The man shrugged. "But you have a nice place here, so I want to." A gloved hand came over the counter. "Takashi Shirogane, it's nice to work with you."

  
"Lance Mcclain-Sanchez, thank you so much for this, Mister Shirogane."

"Shiro, please."

  
The man - Shiro - picked up his coffee and moved it to a smaller table tucked away at the side of the cafe. "Sit with me?"

As Lance moved, wide-eyed, from behind the counter, he saw Pidge shoot him a wink and a grin. Shiro had now shrugged off his jacket, sitting there in just a tight dress shirt that seemed to cling to every muscle whilst tapping away on an expensive looking laptop.

Lance had no idea how he was going to survive this.

* * *

 

At least an hour later, Lance and Shiro were still sat there, except now the laptop screen was covered with a colourful spreadsheet, and the table was unseeable under the record books and sheets of loose paper with scribbles and sums all over them. They'd come to some form of deal that, hopefully, would stop the small cafe from falling into the red within the next year. Shiro seemed fairly pleased with the outcome, sitting back with a happy smile and a quick click of the save button.

"That should just about finish it all," he finalised, reaching past Lance to close a record book, "if you have anymore problems with it, feel free to contact me."

  
"What, so just waltz into your fancy lawyer building and request to see you?" Lance asked with a chuckle, taking a sip of his now cold coffee.

  
"Or you could just call me," the older man stated simply, pulling a business card out of his top pocket and scribbling a phone number on the back, "that's my personal cell number, going through the agency won't end well."

  
"Are you sure you don't mind?"

  
"Of course not." Shiro turned and gave him a warm smile. "You do a good cup of coffee here, I'd hate to see you go under."

Lance left himself blush. It was either a blush, or it was  _incredibly_ warm in the cafe.

"Shit, I should be getting back," Lance heard Shiro say, with a glance at the equally expensive watch, "I'll probably come back here at some point, so I'll see you around, Lance."

  
As Shiro folded away his laptop, Lance brushed himself down and stood. "I should be getting back to work too, Hunk probably thinks I'm shirking or something."

  
"Well then, I'll see you around." The gloved hand appeared in front of him again, and Lance reached out to shake it.

  
"Don't be a stranger, Mister Shirogane, you and your accountant friends are always welcome here."

With a smile, and what Lance  _swore_ was a slight blush, Shiro turned and went, the bell tinkling as he excited. Lance was left, shocked, leaning against the table.

The first thing he heard was, wolf-whistling from her seat on the other side of the cafe, where she was sat next to a quietly giggling Hunk.

  
"'Don't be a stranger'? Really, Lance?" Hunk taunted through his laughter.

"Shut up! He gave me his number so, who's the real loser here?"

* * *

 

Later that night, after wrestling with stubborn clients and numbers that wouldn't add up no matter which way he looked at it, Shiro practically fell into the pub. A quick scan around the bar told him that Keith and Matt were crushed into a booth at the back, with Keith looking like he'd rather be anywhere but there whilst Matt carried on talking. 

  
"Don't try to look so happy Keith," he joked as he slid in next to Matt after ordering a pint of whatever beer was on tap, "what did I miss whilst I was out?"

  
Matt smirked, mostly at the scowl Keith shot over the table. "Nothin' much, just more annoying old people trying to write wills, but I heard Keith got a win today."

  
Keith shrugged in response. "Got called in last minute to a court case because the state lawyer bailed. The guy was completely innocent, and but I might have to go in again tomorrow to work out who actually stabbed a woman seven times in the throat over on the west side." He took a long sip of the fruit cider that was sat in front of him. "I didn't see you around too much today Shiro, where were you?"

  
"Volunteering my monetary tactics at a local cafe to stop it from closing by next May," Shiro admitted simply, loosening his tie from around his neck, "the owners were nice, and the coffee was good, so I helped out."

  
On his left, Matt gave him a sceptical look. "You helped them? For  _free?"_ He cocked an eyebrow, taking a sip of the vibrantly coloured cocktail before setting it back on the table. "Christ, you must have liked them. Was she fit or something?"

  
Shiro shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "His name was Lance, and he was one of the co-owners who worked as the head barista. It's really the head chef's place, but he helped his friend out with buying the place."

As if on cue, Shiro's phone buzzed in his pocket.

It was a simple text message from an unknown number.

  
_"Thank you for today again! You really helped out, Hunk can finally sleep again! (This is Lance, btw)"_

"Hey Shiro, is that your special barista sweetheart?" Keith teased sarcastically, attempting to look over the table.

  
Shiro scowled. "Yes, it is Lance, and he was just saying thanks for helping him out. This isn't some romance novel secret relationship, you know."

  
"It better not be," Keith scoffed, "you know how dangerous it is."

Of course. He killed members of a secret intelligence organisation by moonlight, every night they ran the risk of not ever coming back.  
How were they supposed to tell their loved ones that?

"Wait," Matt said slowly, "The dude you're swooning over is Lance, and the guy who runs the place is Hunk..." he trailed off, dramatically scratching his chin, " _The Garrison Brew_ , right?"

  
Shiro flushed. "You know that place?"

  
Covering a laugh with a cough, Matt leaned back against the walls of the booth. "Katie works there whenever she's done at school, it's paying her collage fund," he explained smugly, "and if the Lance you spent the afternoon with is the same as the Lance I'm thinking off - short brown hair, lanky as fuck?" Shiro nodded and Matt whistled slyly, "-you've netted yourself one hell of a catch."

Shiro's flush, if anything, deepened. "He's not a 'catch'," he fought back, "I'm not 'catching' him!"

  
At the realisation that he was practically shouting, he shuffled on the seat. "He was just a friendly barista who wanted some help with his finances, that's all."

  
After taking long drink of his cider, Keith scoffed. "Yeah, right," he said scathingly, "what colour are his eyes, Shiro?" 

  
"Blue," Shiro replied instantly, not taking his eyes off the table.

  
"And what's his best feature?"

  
"He has a cute laugh and a nice ass."

  
Keith sent a knowing look across the table at Matt. "Shiro, you're so gone."

The glass sat drained in front of him.

He was going to need another pint.

* * *

 

It was a couple of days later when Lance was half-asleep and hearing footsteps through his ceiling.

It wasn't a nice feeling; due to him having the top floor flat, he heard everything that happened to hit into the concrete that lined the top of the mid-height building, midnight stargazers included. There, usually, was no use worrying, it wasn't ever anything interesting or important.  
But there was no way in hell he was getting back to sleep with the amount of noise that was coming from above his apparently; they must have been setting up a telescope or something with all that clanking.

His phone on his bedside table read 00:05, and there were people talking quietly outside 0n the street. A wind was whipping his blinds up from over the open window, so Lance slid out of bed slowly and meandered over to go and shut it. 

  
Outside, he saw two older men dressed in suits talking conspiratorially on the other side of the road, voices being carried by the wind. On the pavement below him, a, or at least what he assumed was, young man in a hoodie and sweatpants walking down the road. He was probably on his way back from a friend's house, Lance thought, or coming home from work.

He was about to close the window when a pop echoed through the air, and one of the suited men crumpled to the floor.

Then hell broke loose.

The other man, the one still alive, pulled a small, glowing handgun out from an inside pocket, shooting at the space above Lance's window. The footsteps above him became more heavy. A crash finally echoed above him, whoever was up there had thrown themselves to the floor. 

  
The hoodie-man below the window had run across the road in the chaos. A glint of silver came from his pocket, but only for a second.

  
He disappeared behind the remaining suited man, who groaned and fell to the floor beside the other. A rush of footsteps came from the roof. Whoever was there had ran.  
Next thing he knew, a large van had appeared from the connecting road, and a taller, lean man appeared from the back doors. The hooded man jumped into passengers seat, but Lance was busy watching the other one throw two bloodied bodies into the back of the van.   
A final, third, man soon appeared from under his window, also dressed in black, that ran over and hopped into the back of the van.

There was a long, futuristic rifle slung over his back.

Then the van drove away, as if nothing had happened. Not even a stain was left on the pavement.

Lance wasn't going to be getting any sleep tonight.

* * *

 

"Fucking hell, Champion, what happened out there?"

Shiro couldn't take his eyes off the floor, couldn't look away from the bodies. Ulaz was opposite him, talking loudly about how much the mission had gone wrong. Even Matt had gone silent, tapping away on one of their GPSes; a true sign they'd fucked up. 

  
Sure, his shot had been fine. They just hadn't expected the other one's - Praxam's? - reaction. They thought Shiro would be able to reload fast enough to take them both out before they knew what was happening.

He didn't need to look up to see Ulaz's disdainful look.

"We didn't expect Praxam to react so violently," Shiro admitted honestly, eyes still locked on the floor.

  
He heard Ulaz click his tongue. "And why not?"

  
Shiro shrugged.

  
"Not good enough, Champion."

  
"Hey," he heard Keith pipe up from the front of the van, "it's not Shiro's fault. Knock it off."

  
"He should have been able to take them both out," Ulaz replied, voice rising.

  
"Well, he couldn't, and that was his guns fault, not his," Keith shot back, fully turning around, "you know it's cool-down isn't that fast."

  
"A good soldier never blames his tools."

  
"A good  _worker_." Keith was nearly shouting now. "We're not soldiers."

  
"As long as we're in this war, we're soldiers." Ulaz sounded tired now, like he'd stumbled on some deep philosophy that displeased him but he couldn't avoid. 

  
Keith growled. "This isn't war!"

  
"Then what is it, Mister Kogane," Ulaz shot back, nearly a roar, "because I'd love to know!"

Keith fell silent after that, collapsing back into his seat and facing the road. "Shut up."

  
Opposite Shiro, Ulaz folded his hands into his lap. "I apologise, but it is a fact we must accept. This is war, and it will remain so until the Galra institute is no longer a threat and kidnapping people off the street to find the perfect human weapon, who will destroy those who don't share their views."

  
All eyes turned to Shiro. His metal arm felt heavy where it was attached to his body. 

  
"We're lucky we got you out when we did."

Didn't he know it.

* * *

 

"Are you okay there buddy?"

The next day, Shiro had decided to spend his break at  _The Garrison Brew_ , but didn't yet feel better for it. Ulaz's words were still fresh in his mind, and the glare he had given him at debriefing this morning seems to have been burned into the backs of his eyelids. 

  
It took a couple of seconds to realise Lance was talking to him, not to whoever was sat at the table next to him, and he blinked a few times before smoothing a gloved hand down his face.

  
"I'm fine," he eventually replied, sighing before looking up at Lance with a tired smile, "just had a late night last night."

  
In front of him, Lance scoffed gently, before placing Shiro's usual latte on the table and drawing up a chair. "You and me both then," Lance replied, wincing slightly at the squeak of the chair as he sat down and gesturing at the coffee, "may I?"

  
Shiro waved a hand nonchalantly. "Have as much as you'd like." He chuckled at Lance's apologetic face. "I can always just buy another one, it's okay."

  
That seemed to be the winning go-ahead, and Lance loudly took a slurp of the coffee. When he took it away from his lips, he handed it to Shiro rather than placing the cup back on the saucer. "Your turn," he said with a smirk.

Shiro hoped he couldn't see the blush that was creeping up from under his top tight collar.

The next thing he was aware of was Lance moving into the seat next to him rather than across the table, and pressing himself into Shiro's side until their cheeks were pretty much touching.

"Explain then," Lance curiously said, poking a finger at the spreadsheet covered screen, "what does literally all of this mean?"

Then he was aware of how dry his throat was, mostly induced by Lance that was now flush against him.

  
"Well, this is a plan for a failing drinks company over on the east coast," Shiro eventually stuttered, shifting quickly to scroll back to the top, "they emailed me this morning, so it's all I've been working on today."

  
"Huh," Lance mused, "cool." He took another sip of their now shared latte before standing and stretching, causing Shiro to shudder from the sudden lack of warmth. "I better get back to work."

He found himself wondering if Lance felt that heat too, that electricity when he was near, a shudder when he left.

He buried that thought moments later.

"Hey, Shiro," Lance asked suddenly, turning on his heel and causing Shiro's head to snap up, "you free this weekend?"

  
Shiro instantly loaded his calendar, thanking all the higher powers he could think of when he saw it was empty. "It would appear I am, why?"

  
"Well, y'know," Lance stammered, becoming very interested in the floor, "we've been talking a lot recently, and spending lunch together, and-" he stopped and took a deep breath- "would you come to dinner with me?"

Those thoughts he buried deep a moment ago were free, and were causing his heart to beat incredibly fast.

Shiro felt a wide grin grow on his face. "I'd be honoured."

"Wow, um, okay," Lance confirmed, equally wide smile spreading over a gloriously blushed face, "I'll, I'll text you. It might not be a high class place but I'll find somewhere nice, and I'll run it past you first-"

  
"Lance," Shiro interrupted, "anywhere will be fine, I trust you."

"Okay." Lance was quiet now, looking slightly dazed, "okay, that's great." He nodded gently to himself. "Thank you Shiro, so much."

  
Then he wandered back over to the counter, still trancelike, and Shiro felt himself laugh quietly as he accidentally walked into a table.

When Shiro left the coffee shop ten minutes later, the smile Lance sent him could have powered the city for a week, and he reentered the large building feeling happier than he had in months.

* * *

 

"Lance, buddy, bro, bestie," he heard Hunk inquire from the entrance as he flipped over the open sign, "are you okay?"

  
He snapped his head up from where he watch counting bills in the till to shoot Hunk a shaky grin. "Just fine, why?"

  
"Because your face says you're regretting every little decision you've ever made," Hunk stated plainly, unconvinced.

  
Lance's smile wavered. "I hate it when you do that."

  
"Do what?"

  
"Know me better than I do."

  
Hunk gave a quiet laugh, shrugging before walking over to the counter. Pidge had also joined them now, hoisting herself onto the countertop with sud-covered hands. "Oh, Lance, is this about your crush?" She sing-songed, snickering at the blush that was growing on Lance's face.

  
"Pidge,  _shut up_ -"

  
"Lance, you have a crush?" Hunk asked excitedly.

  
Pidge nodded. "And it's only the hot suited dude that's in here most days on his lunch break," she added, "you two end up sharing coffees a lot, it's gross."

  
"Wait, hang on." Hunk turned to Lance, who had now buried his face in his hands. "Is this the same guy you've been texting non-stop for the past week or so? 'Shiro the Hero' or whatever you named him?"

  
Lance balked. "How do you know that?"

  
"I looked at your phone," Hunk replied nonchalantly, shrugging again.

  
" _Hunk_!"

Pidge pokes his cheek impatiently. "Now we know who he is, what happened that could possibly be so embarrassing? You didn't spill a drink on him or something, right?"

  
"No, nothing like that!"

  
"So what happened then?" Hunk chimed in.

Lance sighed; there really was impossible getting anything past his friends, no matter how much he loved them. "I may or may not have asked him on a date," he finally said, looking up to see both Hunk and Pidge's shocked faces.

  
"And?"

  
"He said yes," he confirmed simply, "he's even letting me pick where we go."

There was a moment of silence, with a thick tension settling into the empty cafe, before Pidge whooped loudly and Hunk threw his arms around Lance in a strong hug. 

  
"Hell yeah, Lance!" Pidge cried, now smiling wide, "go get him, tiger!"

  
Hunk was now fake-crying into his hair, whilst trying to contain laughs. "Our boy is growing up," he joking said to Pidge, "soon he'll have a family of adorable, muscular children."

  
"Guys, stop," Lance fought through laughter, "it's just a date."

  
"'Just a date', he says," Hunk countered, finally releasing him from his arms, "it's the start of your life bro!"

  
"And let's face it, it can't be any worse than the Nyma date," Pidge added.

  
As Lance was about to interject, when Hunk pulled the two into a rough hug. "Ya' know what this calls for?" Hunk asked, "sleepover at mine, I'll order take out, and we can watch shitty movies until 3am."

"Hunkules, that sounds incredible."

* * *

 

The rooftop was particularly cold that night, but really, Shiro didn't care. Sure, the cold was tearing through the rough material of his gloves and coat, and the wind was violent and roaring, but they all had doubts that the Galra member would show.

  
That, and Lance was organising their date.

 **[23;57] Lance:**  
_So Saturday, is that okay?_

 **[23:57] Shiro:**  
_I'm free all weekend, you just say when is easiest for you_

 **[23:58] Lance:**  
_That would be Saturday then :P_

 **[23:58] Shiro:**  
_That sounds perfect :)_

 **[23:59] Lance:**  
_I can get a reservation at this restaurant downtown, it's a small little indie place, but Hunk's girlfriend works there and her cooking is fANTASTIC, but like, it's a cheap family place, ya know?_

 **[23:59] Shiro:**  
_Small restaurants are fine Lance, you know I'm not picky_

 **[00:00] Lance:**  
_But you're rich_

 **[00:00] Lance:**  
_Oh shit that was rude I'm sorry_

 **[00:01] Shiro:**  
_It's okay Lance, don't worry :) that doesn't mean I can't enjoy cheap restaurants though_

 _"Champion, we're pulling out,"_  a gruff voice said, suddenly cutting through his earpiece.

"Why?"

Ulaz huffed. " _We have reason to believe no one will show tonight, and with the cock-up that was the last mission, it's better to be safe than sorry."_

Shiro shrugged, taking the gun and tossing it over his shoulder as he stood.

"Alright, heading down now."

 **[00:03] Lance:**  
_So, Balmera's on sixth street at 7:30?_

 **[00:05] Shiro**  
_I'm looking forward to it :)_

* * *

 

 **[09:34] Katie the mate-y**  
_Yo dumbass, is your workmate called Shiro a tall muscular dude with weird hair and gloves_

 **[09:35] MattPatt_69_420**  
_If you woke me up at this godforsaken hour to try and get his number, fuck off_ _,_ _no matter how thirsty you are_

 **[09:35] Katie the mate-y**  
_wtf asshole_

 **[09:36] Katie the mate-y**  
_I need to know if that's the same shiro as the one that's going on a date with my buddy next week_

 **[09:36] MattPatt_69_420**  
_Shit your buddy isn't called Lance per chance_

 **[09:37] Katie the mate-y**  
_The very same_

 **[09:37] MattPatt_69_420**  
_They're dating now?_

 **[09:38] Katie the mate-y**  
_Not officially, they're going on their first date this Saturday_

 **[09:38] MattPatt_69_420**  
_Fuckin finally, Shiro's been pining over him for ages_

 **[09:39] Katie the mate-y**  
_But he's not gonna get hurt, right, not with your line of work?_

 **[09:40] MattPatt_69_420**  
_Not if I can help it_

* * *

 

Saturday came incredibly fast.

Slightly too fast, Shiro thought, as he stood in front of a floor length mirror trying to work out which shirt he should wear to dinner that night.

"Shiro, quick question," Keith asked from the doorway, smirking and leaning on the wooden frame, "what the hell are you doing?"

  
Shiro spun around, shocked. "Jesus, Keith, haven't you ever heard of knocking? It's this thing normal people do."

  
Keith shrugged. "We share this place asshole, knocking is for losers."

  
"Keith!"

  
"You still haven't answered my question," Keith prompted with a quirked smile.

  
Shiro sighed, dropping his hands to his sides. "I was wondering what shirt to wear to the date tonight."

  
"Your options?"

  
Shiro held up the shirts that were in his hands. "White or purple?"

  
"Is the purple one the tight one?" Keith asked bluntly.

  
"I think so, why?"

  
He hoped he wasn't blushing as much as he felt like he was.

Keith shrugged again, rearranging his position against the doorframe. "It'll make you more hot, and he'll probably like you more."

  
"I don't think he's in this for the looks, you know," Shiro said with a sad laugh, quickly slipping the shirt over his vest and doing up the buttons. 

  
Keith frowned. "You're plenty attractive, so why not?”

  
"Well, y'know..." Shiro trailed off, holding the metal arm out lamely in front of him. Even in the mirror he could the the faint bumps and ridges of the scars that tracked his upper body. Would Lance notice them like he did? Would Lance object?

He didn't even realise he had unbuttoned the shirt until he felt Keith's hand on his arm, looking up at him with a worried look.

"Shiro, you're not ugly, and he's not gonna' fixate on them," Keith assured, turning to the mirror, "he probably won't even notice."

  
"What if he asks?"

  
A glove appeared in his line of sight. "Just tell him you don't wanna' talk about it," Keith stated with a shrug, "if he keeps going, he's not the right guy for you to be with."

  
Shiro took the glove out of Keith's hand, slipping it over his prosthetic and rolling the cuff of the shirt down. "Am I doing the right thing?"

  
"You can only try."

Deep down, he knew Keith was right.

"I'll see you later then," he finally said, spinning round with a slight flourish once he had retrieved his jacket off of the top of the mirror. Keith nodded, before walking over and pulling the taller man into a hug which Shiro happily reciprocated.

  
"He's picking you up right?"

  
"Yeah, He's driving us there."

  
"Well, you know the code," Keith murmured into his shirt, "if you're uncomfortable, I'll come and get you, just say the words."

  
"Thank you, really Keith."

  
A soft hand clapped his back, and he felt Keith pull away as the buzzer ripped through the silence. "Now, go and get your man, I think he's waiting."

* * *

 

"I hope you like this place," Lance mused as they turned onto the main road through the city, "its the place I always take my parents, and they love it, so I hope you like it too."

  
Shiro laughed under his breath, relaxing into the passenger seat of Lance's slightly bashed-up car. "I'm sure I will," he said quietly, turning to look at Lance, "what kind of food is it?"

  
Lance hummed in thought, hissing slightly as the clutch refused to bite. "It's a bit of everything, really," he explained, never once taking his eyes off the road, "but I'd  _really_ recommend the chicken burgers or the chorizo tortellini- Wait, you're not vegetarian, right?"

  
Shiro shook his head, and Lance sighed loudly in relief. "That's good," he said, slightly breathlessly, "their vegetarian stuff isn't too great."

  
"Well," Shiro said nonchalantly, "I won't have that then."

  
Lance laughed, turning the car down a side street. "Like, they have these salads that are decent, but the dressings?" He pulled a face, causing Shiro to laugh under his breath. "They've got so much vinegar in them, I can literally  _feel_  my skin burning as I eat them."

  
"That bad, eh?"

Admittedly, Shiro hadn't heard a word Lance had said, instead choosing to watch the way Lance's skin seemed to glow more in the suburban street lights, the elasticity of his face as he pulled face after face that probably would have been ugly to the average onlooker, and the way his entire body seemed to move to some ethereal rhythm that no one else could hear.

It said something about a person when they could make driving a car look elegant.

"-Shiro?"

  
He snapped back out of his thoughts with a hum, focusing fully on Lance and the dopey grin that now settled on his face.   
Lance laughed gently under his breath, undoing his seatbelt and pushing the door open. "I hope you don't mind a walk," he said as Shiro made his way out of the car, "this was the closest parking space."

  
Shiro waved his hand, pushing the door shut with a smile but shivering as the cold air hit into his face. "It's fine," he replied, wrapping his jacket around him a little tighter and blushing at Lance's sceptical look, "how far away is the restaurant?"

  
"Not far," Lance sing-songed with a smirk, "shall we?"

Lance wasn't wrong when he said they weren't far away. He took Shiro down a dark back alley away from the car park, leading him by the wrist the entire time, and the bright glow of the restaurant exterior was the first thing that met them on the other side. Admittedly, Balmera's wasn't the classiest place ever, and it wasn't anywhere Keith would willingly take him, but he wasn't a snob. The plants that wormed up the red bricks were a sign of how homegrown the place was, and the gentle yellow light from the windows stood out against the harsh white LEDs of the city. 

  
He felt Lance tug his sleeve gently. "Are you coming?" The younger man asked, beginning to move across the street, "Rax will think we forgot the reservation at this rate!"

Shiro nodded, and followed him across the road.

* * *

 

The inside of the restaurant was just as welcoming as the exterior. As soon as they entered, the scent of herbs and fresh dough hit Shiro like a freight train, but nothing about it was unpleasant. It was also much warmer than the autumnal chill outside, feeling much more like someone's living room due to the soft lighting and open-hearth fires on three of the walls.

  
As he took in his surroundings, Lance finished off the conversation with a tall man, taller than Shiro was, who he assumed was Rax, and gave his sleeve another tug. 

  
"Rax has got us the best table in the house," Lance remarked excitedly, voice rising as they were led over to a red and white checked table in the corner.  
"May I ask what makes it the best table?" 

  
"Well, we're really close to this fire here-" he gestured at the fireplace that was flickering gently in the ambiance- "and from here, we can people watch, and see the kitchen!"

  
Shiro pulled the chair out as he laughed gently, flipping open the menu on the table. "You've really thought this through, haven't you?"

  
"What can I say, I have good tastes," Lance shot back, smug, "now, see anything that catches your fancy?"

_Yep, and I'm looking at him right now_

"The cannoli sounds nice."  
Lance laughed, all bright and loud. "The cannoli is  _delicious_."

  
"Well, in that case," Shiro confirmed with the snap of the menu shutting, "I know what I'm having."

  
"Well, I'm gonna' have the chicken burger," Lance added, taking Shiro's menu to pile them up at the edge of the table, "is this okay for you?"

  
Shiro nodded about to reply when Rax wandered over to take their orders,  
"Lance, this is wonderful," he said once Rax had left, grinning at Lance's visible relief.

  
"I was worried, see," Lance explained, "that you wouldn't like it because you suit people tend to eat at fancy places."

  
"This place feels more like home than my own apartment," Shiro said with a laugh, "and anyway, this suit person eats take-out most days in front of reruns of Kitchen Nightmares."

  
Lance paled in response. "You mean, you don't eat properly unless you eat out?"

  
Shiro shrugged. "I often don't get a lot of time in the evenings, it's just easier."

  
"No, no, I can't stand for this," Lance interrupted, "let me come and cook for you, and I'll show you what you're missing."

  
"Really Lance, I'm fine-"

  
"But you can't beat home cooked food!"

Giving up, Shiro gave a mock sigh, holding his hands up in defeat. "Alright, I'll let you cook for me one day."

  
On the other side of the table, Lance whooped and punched the air. "It'll be the best meal you've ever cooked, just wait and see!"

  
"Better than this place?" Shiro questioned, raising an eyebrow and leaning forward on the table.

  
"Okay, maybe not  _that_  good."

The conversation lulled after that, breaking into light discussion about homes, family and friends, jobs and schooling. Shiro learnt that Lance worked at their coffee shop most days, and lived in a small apartment at the top of a tower block over at the east side near the docks. He attended a college in the centre of town, in the final year of an astrophysics masters degree, but only after passing a four-year physics degree, and was the youngest of an  _extremely_  large family from a southern coastal city. 

  
"You'd love them," Lance said, sipping leisurely from the drink that Rax had brought over a while before, "I think Mama would adopt you there and then, she did that with all my other friends."

  
"I think I'm okay with this," Shiro replied slightly sarcastically, "I don't know what Keith would think though.”

  
It was then when Lance frowned, resting an elbow on the table before placing his head in his hands. "You keep talkin' about Keith, is he your boyfriend or something?"

_Shit._

Shiro sat up, shocked. "No, no, he's just a friend," he stammered, "my best friend, we've known each other since we were kids."

  
"Oh  _phew_."

  
"Yeah, he can hardly take care of himself, so it kind of helps to live together."

  
Lance barked out a laugh, looking up at Shiro with a skeptical smile. "Looks like I'll be cooking for the both of you then."

  
"I'm sure he wouldn't complain."

"Lance, sweetheart, I heard you were coming!"

  
Lance's head snapped around, Shiro following to see a tall woman approaching with her arms laden with bowls of food. 

  
"Shay!" Lance cried back, "I'm guessing Rax told you we were here?"

  
"Of course." She nodded and placed their plates on the table. From here, the food smelt divine, and Shiro was silently thanking every god that Lance had brought him here.  
"So, this is the new one?"

  
Shiro looked up quickly, eyes wide.

  
"Shay, shush!"

  
Shay laughed, sweet and gentle. "You picked the right place for a date, if you need anything, shout for me, not Rax." She laughed again, nudging Lance as she turned. "He's not bad, either, well done!"

With that, she left, leaving Shiro in a stunned silence, face burning, whilst Lance buried his head in his hands. "I'm so sorry," he eventually said, "Shay hasn't ever been great with subtlety, and-"

  
"Lance, really, it's okay," he said, shock melting into a soft smile as he stabbed the pasta tube with his fork, "she could have said much worse things."

  
Lance looked up, face still dark with blush. "But, she said about you, and a date?-"

  
"It's okay," Shiro repeated, catching Lance's eye, "I really don't mind."

"Okay." Lance sat up, eyes fixed on the table. "So this is date then?"

  
"It can be if you want it to be."

  
"I do." His mouth clamped shut as he realised how fast he replied. "But I'm happy to wait. We'll take this at your pace, if you want."

  
"I'm sorry if that's a bit slower than you would have liked."

  
Lance shook his head slowly with a grin, finally taking a large bite of his burger. "I'm happy with that."

* * *

 

"C'mon, you honestly thought this was just gonna' be a meal?"

  
An unknown man, long limbed and brightly smiling, was pulling the Champion down a street by the hand, laughing the entire way. He seemed unconcerned, carefree, unaware of the dangers he was getting embroiled in.

  
"Sendak, I have a view," Haxus spoke quietly into the phone, never taking his eyes off the couple. They were now slowly dancing, spinning in a gentle circle in the glow of the street lamps, talking about something inaudible through the walls of the car.

  
_"And?"_ The voice in his ear said harshly, " _what about it?"_

Haxus laughed harshly, moving the phone to take a quick photo of the scene. "I believe we may have some leverage to our, ah, case."

* * *

 

It was a few days after their meal that Shiro spoke to Lance alone again, although he couldn't exactly say it was planned. Sure, he saw him at the café nearly everyday, but this felt different.

There was no mission that night, no reason for Shiro to be awake, and yet sleep was elusive, slipping through his fingers whenever he thought he was finally nodding off. Ghosts were dancing in the shadowy corners of the room, gliding away every time he flicked the light on, but returning almost instantly. He was tossing and turning, unable to be comfortable without the lingering feeling of being watched. 

  
There was no way he was going to sleep like this.

Mercifully, a buzz shook the table next to his bed, gentle light poking out from under the case lid. Shiro rolled over, stretching to take the phone off the table, and he grinned when he saw who it was from.

 **[23:45] Lance:**  
_Shutting up shop now! Night Shiro!_

There was a picture attached, a casual selfie of an exhausted-looking Lance grinning at the camera, empty cafe behind him. He'd gotten into the habit of sending Shiro texts first thing in the morning and last thing at night, which Shiro found more and more endearing the more he sent them.

 **[23:46] Shiro:**  
_Goodnight Lance :)_

 **[23:48] Lance:**  
_Blimey, go to sleep you!_

Shiro frowned, pulling his phone away from the changer to lie on his back.

 **[23:48] Shiro:**  
_It's one of those nights_

He was about to put his phone back on the side when it buzzed again, but this time it didn't stop. The screen had changed, showing Lance's contact picture, and a slider to answer a call. Shiro sighed, sliding the green button to the right and pressing the phone to his ear. 

  
"Lance?"

  
A concerned hum met him from the phone, crackling slightly over the receiver. "Shiro? You okay?"

Lance asked quickly, and Shiro could almost picture his face.  
"I'm fine," Shiro replied, not wanting to worry Lance this late at night, "just can't sleep, that's all."

  
He heard Lance hum again, obviously not quite believing him, and the metallic slam of a car door echoed through the speaker. "Do you want me to come over?" Lance suddenly questioned, but the spluttering coming from the phone told Shiro that hadn't intended to be said, "I mean- I mean, just in case, like the offer is there? If you want it to be, I mean-"

  
"Lance," Shiro cut him off, smiling gently despite himself, "I'll be okay, it's just insomnia, but thank you anyway."

Both he and Lance knew it wasn't just insomnia, but no one said anything more.

"Oh, okay," Lance said slowly; he almost sounded disappointed, but that might have been his desperate imagination.

  
"But I'll be sure to remember the offer."

  
In the responding silence, he heard Lance's car cough into life, before Lance squeaked, only just realising what Shiro had said, and something warm began to pool in Shiro's chest.  
"I'll make you a business card," Lance chuckled weakly, "if you ever wanna' cash it in, shout me."

  
Shiro laughed quietly, pulling the blankets further up his body. "Well, I'm free tomorrow night if you are."

  
There was a pause, and all Shiro could hear was the white noise of car movement. He was about to ask again when Lance swore under his breath, almost inaudible by the screech of breaks.

  
"Sorry Shiro, some  _asshole_  decided to pull out without indicating, like he expects me to be some kind of  _psychic_ -" Lance sighed deeply, and there was another crackle, "Yeah, I'm free tomorrow night, we could order a pizza and cuddle in front of shitty sci-fi reruns?"

  
"Sounds perfect."

Lance bid his farewells a moment later, and Shiro hung up with the buzz of excitement still lingering in his veins.

  
The last thing he heard was the gentle door slam of Keith finally coming home.

* * *

 

"Where are you now?"

  
Shiro sighed, turning his car onto yet another identical looking road. "Bank crescent?"

  
On the other end of the phone he heard Keith grumble and the clacking of laptop keys; he'd had Keith on the phone for the past five minutes after getting hopelessly lost around the estate, not quite able to tell which apartment block was Lance's. The entire place seemed familiar, so it was possible he'd been here on a mission before, but streets looked decidedly different in the nearly setting sunlight than they did at the dead of midnight.

  
"Take the next left," Keith finally said, and Shiro swivelled the car into the road, "it should be the third one on your right."

  
"Ah, I see Lance's car now."

  
" _Fucking_   _finally_."

  
He pulled the car up next to Lance's, turning the car's engine off and looking up at the building next to him. "Thank you so much, Keith."

  
"You know you'd be dead without me Shiro," Keith snarked back, and shut the laptop with a click.

  
"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Shiro replied with a laugh, "I probably won't be home tonight, I'll see you tomorrow."

  
He heard Keith snort quietly. "Use protection!"

  
"Fuck off Keith, why don't you go see if Matt's free or something? I know you want to."

  
Keith hung up in protest, and Shiro quickly typed out a message to Lance before locking up his car.

The building wasn't that big, and although Lance said he was on the top floor, the elevator in the lobby appeared to be in complete working order. He was on the top floor in seconds, and, did Lance say he was number sixty-one?

  
He was just about to knock when the door was pulled open by someone who most definitely wasn't Lance, instead being a larger man with a puffy vest and a yellow headband who pretty much barrelled into Shiro. He stumbled backwards, only to be caught by a smaller girl, a scarily familiar smaller girl, who wrapped a quick hand around his wrist before he could fall. 

  
"Christ Hunk," the girl cried, "watch where you're going!"

  
The big guy - Hunk - had jumped to his side, worriedly checking him over before releasing him with a sigh. "I'm sorry dude," Hunk said slowly, expression apologetic, "are you okay?"

  
"I'm fine, don't worry," Shiro assured, smiling at Hunk, who's mortified face was slowling melting into one of relief, "just a bit of a shock."

  
"That's good," the smaller girl said, snickering quietly, "Hunk, you really need to work on your first meetings."

  
Hunk grumbled under his breath. "Shut up Pidge, no one asked you."

The younger girl - Pidge - was looking more and more like Matt the more he looked.

"Big dude?" Hunk asked, shaking Shiro out of his thoughts, "so, what are you doing around here?"

  
"Ah, I'm looking for my, uh, friend's house," Shiro confirmed nervously, suddenly feeling like a child being scrutinised, "he, he told me it was up here, the address he gave me said it was here-"

  
"Wait, are you Shiro, per chance?" Pidge asked, quirking an eyebrow upwards. Shiro nodded, and the other two shared a look.

  
They then burst into laughter.

  
"Hey, Lance!" Hunk called into the apartment, fighting through laughter, "your date's here!"

  
"He's real fit too!" Pidge added, high-fiving Hunk before doubling over in further laughter at Shiro's bewildered look. 

  
There was a muffled clatter from in the apartment, and a quick scream of pain before Lance appeared in the doorway. "Shiro!" Lance called, breathlessly but obviously trying to cover it up, "you're here, I'm so sorry for my  _friends_ -" he elbowed Hunk and Pidge harshly, despite them still laughing- "and anything they might have said, they were just leaving."

  
"Yeah, Yeah, see you later Lance," Hunk said jokingly, jostling the bag on his back and moving towards the lift. Pidge nodded and followed after him. "Be safe, use protection!" she called over her shoulder, leaving Lance a blushing mess in the middle of the door way.

"I am so sorry," Lance apologised, moving to allow Shiro into the flat, "my friends have absolutely no filter, see, and they think it's funny? Like-" he threw an affronted hand against his chest as he led Shiro to a couch- "I wouldn't do that for them?" 

  
"I'm sure you wouldn't," Shiro replied, trying hard not to laugh, although Lance's grumble told him he wasn't convinced. 

  
"Well, I have pizza, and a large amount of whatever the hell is on Netflix, that okay for ya?"

  
Shiro flushed, and realised he's been looking forward to this more than he thought. "It sounds perfect."

* * *

 

It hadn't even taken one movie for Lance to get close to Shiro, and he was quietly loving it. Lance had pressed himself into his side, resting his head in the crook of Shiro's arm that he'd absentmindedly stretched over the top of the couch. The smaller man was happily ranting about something that had just happened on screen, and although Shiro wasn't completely paying attention, he was content in listening to lilt of his voice and the feeling that happy warmth that made itself home in his chest.

  
Without fully noticing, he moved his arm fully around Lance, locking it around his waist and pulling him flush against his side. He also completely forgot about his prosthetic and pressing the metal hand to the exposed skin at Lance's waist, revelling in the warmth of his skin that the sensory pads picked up.

Then Lance froze, and Shiro had never regretted an action more.

"You okay?" He asked tentatively, already beginning to retract his arm, when Lance nodded and wiggled to chase his hand.

  
"I'm fine, in fact I'm more than fine," Lance assured, shuffling into Shiro's side again, but this time resting his head on his shoulder and throwing his legs over Shiro's lap, "you okay?"

  
"Like, you said," Shiro parroted, moving his arm up from Lance's waist to play with his hair and feeling that warmth grow when Lance nuzzled into his hand, "more than fine."

By now, the movie was playing to no one, since Lance was wrapped up in the contact, and Shiro was wrapped up in Lance.

  
"So what," Lance said quietly, looking up at Shiro with shadow-casted eyes, "this is our third date?"

  
"Third?" Shiro playfully questioned, "I'd say second."

  
Lance shook his head. "Third."

  
"Explain."

  
"Well, there's now, and that time with the meal where you danced in the street with me at half past eleven at night-"

  
"I wouldn't exactly have called it dancing."

  
Lance snorted, and pressed a finger against his lips. "But also remember all those times at the cafe? Can I count those as dates?"

  
"I don't know-"

  
"Well, I'm gonna' count them, we shared coffee, see," Lance explained, "so we've been on tons of dates, if you think about it."

  
"Lance," Shiro interrupted again, making Lance pout playfully, "where are you going with this?"

  
Lance went quiet, thinking for a moment.

"I wanna' kiss you."

Well, that wasn't what he was expecting.

"Lance, I-"

  
"Okay, don't worry, I can wait, I know you wanna' wait."

Well, it was now or never.

Shiro cut him off by slowly pressing his lips against Lance's, which silenced him with a muffled hum.

And oh boy, if Shiro had fallen before, now he was hurtling over this cliff with no way of survival.

Lance's lips were soft, with only the slightest chapping that Shiro was tracing with his own, and tasted faintly of blueberries. Shiro hoped his own lips weren't too bad, but he soon got his answer as Lance moved to straddle his lap, threading his hands in Shiro's hair as he felt his eyes flutter shut and his head tilt back to allow Lance a better angle. 

  
Then Lance ran his tongue over Shiro's bottom lip, and Shiro had officially gone to heaven.

  
Opening his mouth to allow Lance access, he was aware that the taste of blueberries was a lot stronger, almost intoxicating him with every movement.  
It was a slow, languid affair, with their lips dancing gently. Lance mewled into his mouth quietly, drawing back and causing Shiro to surge forwards to catch his lips again.

"Holy crow," Lance said breathlessly, pulling away with a gasp for oxygen and chuckling at Shiro's whine at the loss of contact, "warn a guy next time, okay?”

  
Shiro's eyes fluttered open, and he was aware just how surrounded by Lance he was; all he could see was Lance, all he could smell and taste was blueberries.

  
"Well, if that's your reaction, I might have to surprise you more often," Shiro replied with a chuckle, earning a pout from Lance. 

  
"If you surprise me like that, you might not ever get a kiss again," Lance retorted, poking Shiro's cheek playfully, earning him a swat. 

  
"With that attitude, you'll certainly be lucky."

  
"Oh shut up, you monster," Lance said with a laugh, before pressing his forehead to Shiro's, "there's only one way you might be able to get in my good books again."

Shiro captured his lips once again, and Lance melted against him.

* * *

 

It was 11:30, and it was dark outside. It was dim in Lance's lounge, the only light being a couple of candles they'd lit earlier and the gentle lamplight streaming in from outside the windows. The candles created a soft sight, warm and safe, and Shiro didn't think he'd ever been so comfortable in his life. He felt like he was floating, the only things he was aware of being the constant hum of the television and the feeling of Lance snuggled up against his side.

Lance was dozing against him when Shiro's phone buzzed in his pocket. 

  
"I'm sorry," he whispered gently, frowning at Lance's sleepy whines as he reached into his pocket to grab his phone. It was like elastic; once Shiro had moved back, Lance was back at his side again, mewling quietly as he drifted back off to sleep.

 **[23:15] Ulaz:**  
_[(1) missed call]_

 **[23:16] Ulaz:**  
_[(2) missed calls]_

 **[23:17] Keith:**  
_[(1) missed call]_

 **[23:18] Keith:**  
_Shiro where the fuck are you, major shit has just gone down_

 **[23:20] Keith:**  
_I'm giving you 10 minutes to remove your tongue from his throat before I come round there and remove it from your mouth completely_

 **[23:30] Keith:**  
_[(2) missed calls]_

Shit.

The phone clattered from his hands.

"What's wrong?" He heard Lance slur, looking up at Shiro with half-lidded eyes, "you don't look so happy."

  
Shiro felt his heart sink. He would have to go, there wasn't much choice he had in the matter, but a deep tiredness had settled into his bones. He didn't really want to leave Lance either, already feeling cold from the slight movement.

  
"I need, I need to go," Shiro stuttered, pushing himself to his feet as Lance stretched and sat up.

  
"Shiro?" Lance called after him gently, eventually standing, "what's happened?"

  
Shiro shook his head. "I can't explain, I'm sorry, but I  _really_ need to go."

  
"You're not making sense-"

  
" _I'm sorry_."

  
Lance looked heartbroken, clear frown covering his face with shadows. His eyes had drooped, and his arms had fallen to his sides, and Shiro finally knew what being a monster felt like.  
Eventually after what felt like hours, Lance sighed. "Alright," he said, voice quiet and defeated, "I'll see you later I guess."

  
"Lance, I'm sorry-"

  
"Shiro," he interrupted, "just go. Do whatever you need to do. It's fine."

  
Shiro nodded. There really wasn't anything more he could do.

He grabbed his bag, and turned towards the door.  
"Lance?" He called once he was near the front door, "I'd love to do this again some time."

  
A quiet agreement met him in return.

  
He turned and left.

* * *

 

Once he reached the lobby of the building, he saw Keith leaning on the wall outside. On the road in front of them was the familiar black van, hazard lights flashing angrily in the dark.

  
"Fuckin' finally," Keith muttered once Shiro was close enough to hear, "Ulaz has been after you since-"

  
"I know," Shiro snapped, not caring for the interruption, "let's go."

  
Keith shot him a glare as they began to walk over to the van, the back doors swinging open. "Who pissed in your coffee tonight?"

  
"No one , I-" Shiro groaned and ran him hand down his face, stepping into the van to see Matt and Ulaz listening in with interest, "I've just fucked things up, okay? Let's just go."

  
Across from him, Ulaz raised a sceptical eyebrow, leaning over to pull the door shut. "Just be glad you're still alive," he hissed.

  
"Uh, guys?" 

  
Shiro frowned. "What?"

  
"Your apartment got stormed," Matt told him, turning around sympathetically, "someone found you out dude, I'm sorry, but guys, you should see this-"

It was suddenly cold in the back of the van.

"Keith, how- how did you-?"

  
"I was working," Keith said simply, "got home about eleven to see the entire place wrecked."

  
"Jesus Christ." Shiro felt the blood drain out of his face, and was only aware he was clenching his fists until Ulaz reached out to relax his hand. His left fingertips came away bloody.

  
"You've been moved to a safe house in the suburbs," Ulaz explained, swiftly moving on, "but we've got to see if there's any traces there-"

" _Guys_!"

All heads were turned towards Matt, who was now looking angrily out of the side window.

  
"What is it?" Ulaz asked, equally furious now.

  
Matt jabbed a finger in the air, pointing outside. "Shiro, go see your fucking boyfriend, I don't think he's gonna' leave."

  
Shiro turned on his seat. Stood outside the apartment block was Lance, looking around the darkened area with a deeply confused expression. In his hand was what looked like Shiro's phone.

  
"Shit, give me a second, I'll make this quick," he said hastily, pushing open the door and ignoring Ulaz's calls of complaint.

The air was cold when he got outside, as he felt almost ashamed to have to face Lance again. He thought he saw Lance's face light up slightly when he came into view, but that quickly disappeared.

  
"You left your phone," Lance half shouted, running over to meet Shiro halfway, "thought you might need it.”

  
Shiro accepted it with a nod of gratitude, and Lance laughed nervously. "So," he asked, "this looks mysterious and official."

  
"What does?"

  
Lance nodded towards the van. "Unlicensed black vans have a habit of looking dodgy," he explained, and Shiro felt himself scratch at his chin awkwardly, "so, you' a drug dealer or something?"

  
"No, I-" Shiro stumbled over his words, "it's a bit more complicated than that."

  
Nodding slowly in vague understanding, Lance shoved his hands in his pockets and shivered. "Alright, I won't pry," he said plainly, turning on his heel to go back inside the building, "I'll text you later then, if you still want to."

  
"I do!"

  
"Great, I'll-"

It was then that a lot of things happened at once.

Just as Lance was about to renter the building, a pop rang out through the nearly silent night. A flash zipped before Shiro's eyes, and the next thing he knew, Lance had fallen to the floor.

He wasn't even fully aware of himself running, nor of the shouts from the van behind him. All he could hear was stinging white noise and a series of anguished sobs from Lance, who was clutching his left shoulder in pain. Shiro fell to his knees next to Lance, eyes wide in shock.

  
"Lance, I- I-"

  
" _Takashi_."

Shiro snapped up to look at Lance, suddenly aware of what had happened. Lance had been shot, clearly, straight through the shoulder. 

  
Whoever shot him was either an idiot or had the worst aim in the world. 

  
The injury was bleeding quite profusely now, and Shiro clamped his hands over either either side of the wound. Lance screamed in pain again, and Shiro bit into his lip.

  
Behind him, he was aware that Ulaz had run down the paved path, pulling out a handgun and shooting into the air about where the shot came from. There was a cry of pain, and a thud, and he heard Ulaz shout for aid.

  
"I'm so sorry-"

  
"No," Lance cut him off, moving one hand on top of Shiro's "thank you."

  
"For what?"

  
Lance shrugged. He looked pale now, red-rimmed eyes standing out against clammy skin. "Takashi, I'm scared."

  
"It'll be fine, I promise," Shiro assured, aware of the panic in Lance's voice, "it's not fatal, I promise, you hear me Lance? You're not going to die, I promise."

  
Lance laughed hysterically in reply. "I've been shot," he said plainly, "I've been shot."

  
"You're gonna' be fine."

A hand appeared on his shoulder, and Ulaz appeared around his front, firstly tying a thick piece of white material around the wound. "Help me carry him," he instructed, and Shiro nodded.

They would be okay. Lance would be okay. He had to be.

* * *

 

Hospitals were never fun.

They were too sterile for Shiro, too inhuman. The chemical smell brought back memories he'd rather forget, and the bright white of the hallways hurt his eyes.

He was curled up in a plastic chair when he was aware of two people sitting down next to him.

  
"It's not your fault, you know," he heard someone - Allura - say, and he felt Keith lay his head on his shoulder.

  
Keith was never great with words.  
He tilted his head to lean on Keith, and a gentle, nailed hand started to rub small circles into his arm. 

  
"It was a random Galra," Keith explained quietly, "apparently his boss had been after you for ages, and wanted to get Lance as a warning." A few photos landed on his lap, and Shiro recognised the scene; it was a blurred scene of him and Lance, dancing in a street glistening with dew.

He felt sick.

"Who was it?"

  
Keith hummed, unsure. "Shiro, maybe this isn't the best idea-"

  
" _Who was it_?"

  
"Some dude who called himself Haxus," Allura finally said. The name didn't ring any bells with Shiro.

  
"His boss?”

  
"Sendak."

He could see the Galra member clear as day, and it flashed before his eyes.

  
He wasn't sure if he could breathe.

"Shiro? You with us buddy?"

He didn't have time to reply before three other people sat down in front of him. One of them he recognised immediately; there was no way he could confuse Matt with anyone else. He looked tired, but plastered a smile on his face anyway, and sent Shiro a gentle wave. 

  
"How are ya' holding up, big guy?" he asked quietly, and Shiro felt himself laugh thickly at the nickname. 

  
"Been better."

  
"I know buddy, I know."

In the following silence, Shiro took a glance at the other two who had sat with him on the opposite bench; one was a tiny Matt clone, almost identical save for a slightly different haircut, who he eventually recognised as the girl from Lance's flat that night. Next to her was the man with the headband, shooting occasional, sympathetic glances as Shiro before guiltily looking away.

  
"So," the girl eventually spoke up, "Lance is stable, the doctors managed to get the bleed under control, they're ninety-nine percent sure that he's gonna' be fine."

  
She shifted in her seat, determinedly looking away as Shiro's head snapped up in hope.   
"But first of all, why the  _fuck_  did he get hurt in the first place?"

  
Shiro tried to answer, but his mouth was dry and words seemed to crumble on his tongue.

  
"He was in the wrong place that the wrong time," Allura answered in his place, "you should be thankful that we were close on hand to help him."

  
It was the other man's turn to butt in now, hands curling into fists in his lap. "But he wouldn't have been shot at all if it weren't for you guys," he said, voice clearly beginning to rise, and Shiro felt that coldness in his chest once again.

Shiro was stuck silent again by that. It basically was his fault; Keith had warned him before they got together that it was dangerous, and he had been so, so careless. They'd used him, a piece of meat to attack Shiro, bypassing the brick turrets and archers posts of the walls he'd put up in one quick shot.

"I'm sorry." He hung his head in defeat, voice sounding utterly exhausted even to himself. He wasn't even aware he was crying until tears started slipping through his fingers like mercury, warm against his clammy hands.

An arm looped itself over his shoulders, shaking with the sobs that had started to shake down his body.

"Hey Shiro?" It was Matt, voice cutting through the white noise that was buzzing violently in his ears. He sounded clear, not like the warble that was Hunk's voice that sounded more like words from underwater. "Lance is awake, he's asking for you."

  
His head turned so fast he was sure his neck was going to snap.

  
"That is, if you're up for it?"

  
He shrugged off Keith and Allura, standing so quickly the blood rush sent black dots to his eyes.

* * *

 

From his place in the hospital bed, Lance looked weak.

Shiro would never admit that to his face, but in the harsh white lights of the hospital, Lance looked washed out and gaunt. The shadows under his eyes were prominent thanks to nearly translucent skin, and his chest wasn't rising and falling quite like Shiro thought it should. There was an IV line in his arm, and when Lance finally looked at him from across the room, his eyes were blown and bloodshot; morphine, obviously. 

  
Lazily, an arm wormed it's way out from under the starched sheets, waving Shiro over from where he was stood in shock. "There you are, big boy!" Lance cried, voice slurred from the pain medication, "why didn't you visit sooner?"

  
"I didn't think you'd want to see me," Shiro admitted as he walked over. Even to himself, his voice was gritty and wrecked, and Lance's exaggerated offence met him as he finally reached his hospital bed. A cold hand wrapped around his loosely, and Lance sent him a quieter smile.

  
"Of course I want to see you. I  _always_  want to see you," Lance drawled, looking up at him and rolling his eyes, "but Hunk was rang first because he's on my emergency list, duh."

  
"Of course." Shiro laughed despite it all, forcing himself to smile at Lance's jokey tone and hoping he didn't notice.

"You're not happy babe."

Shiro looked up, shocked; even high on pain meds, Lance somehow knew exactly what he was feeling. The hand around his somehow increased its grip, and Lance's eyes met his with a watery smile. 

  
"I just," Shiro started, but was cut off by a sharp intake of breath, "I was scared."

  
"And ya know what?" Lance shot back nonchalantly, "I was as well."

  
A silence hung in the air, Shiro only aware of Lance's thumb that had begun to stroke over his knuckles.

  
"But you promised I'd be okay, and I trust you."

  
"Really?"

  
Lance hummed whilst giving a jerky nod, and Shiro felt his insides melt into an icy warmth. A plastic chair appeared behind him, obviously placed there by a nurse at some point in the conversation, and he fell backwards into it with a resigned huff. He never let go of Lance's hand once. 

"So what are you then?"

  
The question caught Shiro off guard, snapping his head up to see Lance's questioning expression.   
"What do you mean?"

  
"Like, what do you do?" Lance asked again curiously, "the black van?"

The cold returned to his chest.  
Slowly, Shiro turned towards the nurse who was stood by the door; he didn't know them personally, but the understanding nod before they walked out told him they were one of Kolivan's lackeys.

  
"It's hard to explain," Shiro started, guiltily tripping over words when Lance gave a cough to interrupt.

  
"Babe, I literally have all the time in the world, so shoot."

Inhale.

  
Exhale.

"I'm basically a hitman," he finally said, looking away instantly so he didn't need to see Lance's face, "I work for a squad, we're working on dismantling an undercover cult-mafia- _thing_ , and I know how fucked up that sounds, but-" 

  
He glanced up, expecting to see horror on the others face.  
Instead, he saw acceptance, a somber, confused acceptance, but acceptance nonetheless. 

  
"Why?"

  
The question surprised him, if just because of the curious tone rather than the disgust that he expected.

  
"Because what they did - what they're doing, it's horrific," he finally said, aware of the cracks in his own voice, "they're ruining so many lives, and I can't, I can't-"

He was cut off by a separate hand that had began to stroke lightly over his prosthetic knuckles. He expected pity, but instead Lance sat up, groaning slightly with effort, and pressed a kiss onto Shiro's forehead. It was feather-light, but he understood the message; for some reason, Lance didn't seem to care,

  
"They gave you that arm, didn't they?"

  
The answer hung in the air, obvious despite no one saying anything. 

  
Lance was too, too good for him.

"We're okay, Shiro."

  
"No, we're not."

  
"Well fine then," Lance replied with a huff, "maybe we should meet again."

  
Shiro looked up, confused. "What?"

  
"Oh come on," Lance drawled, rolling his eyes, "I'm high on morphine, play along with me here. Let's literally meet again, and be honest this time!"

Oh.

  
Okay.

Gingerly, Shiro stood to his feet, reluctantly letting go of Lance's hands to walk to the door of the ward. Once he was there, he took a deep breath before turning around to face Lance in his hospital bed. 

  
"Wow, what's a handsome fella' like you doing here?" Lance nearly purred, and Shiro felt his heart nearly melt. 

  
"I was here to visit a friend and I think i got the wrong ward number," Shiro replied, playing along despite the shakiness of his walk, "but he can wait."

  
"Ooh, really? I'm honoured." Lance waved him to the bedside with a flamboyant gesture. "Tell me, do ya' have a name?"

  
"Takashi," he replied, "but my friends call me Shiro."

  
Lance laughed, loud and ringing. "Well I hope to be a little more than just friends, Takashi.”

  
Shiro felt his face heat up brilliantly. "And you?"

  
"I'm Lance," Lance replied, proudly brandishing a line to his chest, "the one and only."

  
"So Lance, what do you do with your days?"

  
"Well, by days, I'm a barista and a masters student in my final year of collage," Lance informed him, and Shiro played along with pretending this was new information, "but by night? I'm a champion Netflix binger, undefeated - you can challenge me if you'd like, but you won't win. You?"

  
"Well, by day, I'm an economic advisor," Shiro parroted, "but by night I'm a sniper taking out members of a terrorist organisation."

  
"A sniper, eh?" Lance asked as he reached out to thread his fingers through Shiro's forelock, "sounds hot."

  
"Well, I can-"

"Are you two done yet or what?"

  
That was Matt, who had poked his head through the door. "Like, Lance's other friends want to see him too."

  
"Shiro?"

  
Shiro turned out, and sent Matt a smile that felt proper, felt real. "Send them in."

Just as the doors swung open, he reached down to lace his fingers with Lance's free hand. 

  
"Are we okay now, Shiro?"

  
"Yes Lance, we're okay."

* * *

 

_Ten months later_

"Are you sure you don't mind?"

Shiro rolled his eyes lovingly from where he was stretched out on their double bed, watching Lance fiddle with his tie in the mirror in the corner of the bedroom.

"Kitten, like I've said before, if they need us that much they'll ring." He pushed himself upright, swinging his legs off the bed and walking over to Lance. "I wouldn't miss your graduation for the world, you know that."

  
"Aw, babe!" Lance shot him a smile in the mirror, letting Shiro wrap his arms around his middle. "I'm honoured, really.”

  
"I'm the one who's honoured," Shiro replied, pressing a kiss to where Lance's jaw met his neck, "to think, I'll be dating a master of astrophysics after tonight."

  
"Kashi, shut up-"

  
"Never." Shiro pressed another kiss to Lance's neck, only for the other man to hold his jaw with one hand and softly place a kiss on his lips.

  
"Just you wait until I get a doctorate, then you'll be sorry!"

  
"Well then, Doctor," Shiro teased with a laugh, "I think it's time for us to go."

The trip to the university was fairly uneventful, Shiro insisting on driving Lance there. On the greens outside waiting was Lance's parents, Hunk and Matt, with Pidge milling distractedly behind them, and Keith's motorcycle pulling up behind Shiro as they locked up. It didn't take for Hunk and Lance to be garbed in their caps and gowns; neither did it take long for Shiro and Lance's mom to start crying, particularly when his name was called during the ceremony.

"So, how handsome did I look up there?" Lance asked at the uni-hosted celebration afterwards, passing Shiro a plastic wine glass full of what appeared to be orange juice.

  
"Handsome as ever, Kitten," Shiro replied, accepting the glass with a gentle brush of fingertips.

  
"Aw, Babe, you're too good to me!"

  
Shiro was about to reply when he felt a tap on his back; it was Keith, who was smiling warmly. "I hate to break you two up," he said, voice lowered, "but we're needed. Matt's grabbing his coat now."

  
Nodding once in understanding, Shiro turned back towards Lance. "Are you sure you don't mind?"

  
Lance shook his head, an accepting grin on his face. "Go knock 'em dead, babe - literally!"

With one final tender kiss to Lance's cheek, Shiro let Keith lead him out of the marque.

  
"Ulaz is picking us up in five," he heard Keith explain once Matt had joined them, "Allura's joining us this time, it must be big."

  
By the entrance, Allura was waiting, leaning nonchalantly against the side of the familiar black van. "Good evening, boys," she called playfully as they got closer, "ready for one final push?"

One last time? He could do this.

As he clambered into the back of the van, his phone buzzed in his pocket.

 **[22:30] Lance:**  
_I love you!!!! <3_

Yeah, they'd be okay.

**Author's Note:**

> fun fact: this is the longest fic I've ever written D:  
> I hope it was okay, and that I did your prompts justice!!!!  
> Come talk to me on my tumblr!
> 
> (Kudos and Comments help Hunk's coffee shop to make more money)


End file.
